


What Christmas Means to Me

by Phoenix_Sparrow



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Christmas, Christmas reminiscing, Gen, Prompt Fic, TAG secret santa, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: tumblrsecretsanta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 12:30:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13123752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Sparrow/pseuds/Phoenix_Sparrow
Summary: Prompt from @meikahidenori for the 2017 TAG Secret Santa challenge. I was given 1. Christmas in space, 2. Flowers, 3. Christmas on the beach. What it created was John reminiscing on how his Christmases have been different in some ways, yet the same in others.





	What Christmas Means to Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meikahidenori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meikahidenori/gifts).



John had had many different experiences at Christmas.

When they were all young, Christmases had been entirely different to what he was used to as an adult.

He remembered snow and creating snowmen. Sliding down the banks on his toboggan with his brothers to see who was the fastest. Lying on his back trying to copy Scott making snow angels and not quite mastering the technique as quick as the others.

He remembered frost and ice. The sparkling patterns over the windows of his bedroom. The frozen bubbles of the lake on their farm. The crunching sound as he walked across the frosty floorboards in the barn.

He remembered lights, bright and shimmering all through town, wrapped round trees and strung between buildings, making the sidewalks twinkle and sparkle.

He remembered tall evergreen trees, all wrapped with lights of their own as well as brightly coloured metallic decorations, towering above them as they did their shopping.

He remembered music being played in every store, all his favourite Christmas songs, and some he wasn’t familiar with. Sitting by the fire at home listening to his mom playing Christmas carols on the piano.

But then the worst happened, the death of their mother and that first Christmas wasn’t as fun as when he was younger.

He remembered trying to console Alan who couldn’t understand why their mom still hadn’t come home.

He remembered standing at her graveside, laying some flowers and placing a small potted Christmas tree by the headstone.

He remembered the quiet of the cemetery and the soft sniffling noises his youngest brothers made as they were held by their father.

The years went by, and they began to celebrate again, honouring her memory by enjoying each other’s company as they knew she’d have wanted.

The first Christmas on Tracy Island was quite the experience for them all and John found the contrast between a northern and a southern hemisphere Christmas to be fascinating.

They’d gone from low temperatures and sometimes snow, to high temperatures and spending time after Christmas dinner playing games on the beach.

John had finally mastered the technique to create a snow angel, only now it was in the warm sand, not the cold snow.

He remembered comparing the heat haze that caused the horizon to shimmer to the fractal patterns created by the ice on his windows. So different and opposite, and yet, both refracted light.

They decorated palm trees with Christmas lights at the villa, so different to the pine trees they were used to.

It cheered John to know that some things never changed. The songs they listened to were the ones he remembered hearing as a child, interspersed with new ones that had been released over the years. They’d sit around the piano, singing along to the songs Virgil played for them.

This year was different to any that had gone before it though. This year was the first year International Rescue had been operational so Christmas went slightly differently as he was spending the run up to the day in space aboard Thunderbird Five.

It was neither hot nor cold as the temperature was rigidly regulated, but he liked it that way, always set to his own personal preference.

He’d gone from creating snow (or sand) angels to floating around in zero-G and he’d mastered the technique needed to manoeuvre himself through his environment far quicker than any of his brothers.

The nature of his Thunderbird meant that he was now surrounded by flashing lights and bright displays all year round, not just at Christmas.

Although, naturally, trees of any kind didn’t grow on Thunderbird Five, he did have a small artificial one that he had in his room at this time of the year which he strung battery powered lights on and added tiny baubles to.

He still had music to listen to, whether it be streamed from the internet or recordings of Virgil playing, but now he had to keep the volume relatively low so as not to miss any incoming distress calls.

But the best part was Christmas Eve. It had become a ritual for him, before each departure, to go from system to system, transferring the processes to the island so IR could continue to function once he’d left, and shutting down the ones that wouldn’t be needed after he was gone. On Christmas Eve it felt even more exciting.

The last thing he did was the turn off his lights and life support before descending back to earth in the space elevator.

His family were always there to greet him upon his arrival, ready to complete the decorations for the festivities the following day. It had become a yearly habit that he’d be the one to mount the star atop their Christmas tree then they’d all head outside, passing through the brightly coloured flower garden, so different to their frozen farm land, to reach the beach where they’d have a campfire on Christmas Eve night.

John may have had many different Christmas experiences, but each was special in its own way.


End file.
